


The secret in the back of your skull

by evilythedwarf



Series: All the songs make sense [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Feelings, Movie Stars, actors!, all those feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilythedwarf/pseuds/evilythedwarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Regina go for groceries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, man. It took me a long time to get this out, mostly because this was supposed to be all fluffy and cute and full of happy Regina, and I just couldn’t manage to do it, since writing happiness is apparently beyond the scope of my writing abilities. But I needed some established happiness to come back to later, because things are about to become grim for my favorite fictional lesbians. This story is really only an in-between between _Just By Looking at Her_ and the real sequel which should hopefully be up much faster than this story.
> 
> By the way, the layout of Emma’s apartment is pretty much like Monica’s apartment in Friends. I figured that since an unemployed chef could hold on to it, there was no reason a somewhat successful actress couldn’t. Also, this story takes place about 2 months after _Just By Looking at Her_ , so if you haven’t you might want to read that one before. If you find you don’t want to or you can’t be bothered here’s what you need to know: Emma and Regina are actresses who meet at the set of a movie, and they sort of fall for each other, but then Regina is kind of a bitch, and they don’t see each other for half a year, and then they go on a date, and they finally get together.

**AUGUST 2013**

You had a nightmare. You think you had a nightmare but you can’t really tell because the first thing you saw as you woke up was Emma, and the first thing you felt was her warm breath against your arm and you forgot about whatever it was that startled you awake, only knowing that your heart was speeding and your body was too tense. 

You get up and put on the tank top Emma was wearing yesterday and a pair of pajama shorts that could be either of yours. In the bathroom, you braid your hair again. It’s so long now, coming down to your waist, and you are constantly thinking about cutting it all off, but Emma is at least a little in love with it, and she’s always messing with the braid you always wear to bed.

It’s almost 5 am and there’s no point in going back to sleep so you quietly exit the bedroom and seat next to the window that faces the street. You love Emma’s apartment, her mismatched furniture and the little breakfast nook where she serves all meals, but you like this spot the most. It’s early yet but people are already out and about. You see 2 joggers and a young man walking his dog, and then there’s the sound of shuffling feet behind you. You turn to find Henry standing outside his bedroom, clad in Finding Nemo pajamas and with his bare toes curling around the carpet.

“Hello, Henry,” you say. He waves at you and takes a few steps towards you. As usual, he waits until you uncurl from your window seat to take the last few steps before climbing on your lap. You wrap your arms around his stomach, holding him securely in place. He sighs and looks outside the window, and you rest your chin on top on his little head. He fits perfectly. 

“We are not good sleepers,” he mumbles. 

“I know,” you reply. It’s not the first time you’ve found each other when it was still dark outside. At first he’d insist on waking his mother, but now he seems content to share these moments with you and you don’t know if you should be scared or thankful.

He sets his hands on top of yours and softly starts tapping with his fingers. Eventually he starts to hum too, a song you can’t identify but must be some one of the 70’s tunes he inexplicably likes. 

“You mother is a great sleeper,” you tell him. He giggles, softly and lazily.

“She is. But let’s not wake her up. I like to be with you in the morning. You’re quiet.”

He continues to tap his odd rhythm against your hands, and you fight the urge to hug him tighter. He is such a sweet boy. He accepted you in his life with open arms and he makes you feel like there is nothing wrong with you at all.

When the sky lightens and more people start milling about in the street you press a soft kiss to Henry’s head and help him stand. You pick him up, marveling at how light he is, and sit him on the counter while you check the fridge and think about what you’ll make for breakfast. Usually you’d be happy with a cup of tea and an apple, but Henry and Emma have a heartier appetite and require more nourishment in the mornings.

You like making breakfast for them. You like having a reason to take out pots and pans and mix and bake and stir. It never fails to put a smile on your face. 

“Omelets?” you ask him. He nods happily. “Do you like mushrooms?” 

He nods and then grins at you and he looks so much like his mother that you are immediately suspicious.

“Does Emma like mushrooms?” you ask next, and you know why he’s grinning when he shakes his head.

“Could we have them anyway? Please?”

“Have what?” Emma enquires from her bedroom’s door. Her hair is a mess and she wearing an overlarge t-shirt that falls down to her knees and she looks perfect. “And what are you two crazies doing up anyway? It’s like 6 in the morning.”

“Not all of us like to sleep the day away,” you tell her.

She blows a raspberry and comes into the kitchen, standing next to Henry and hugging him. He transfers himself into her waiting arms and wraps himself around her.

“We’re having mushrooms for breakfast,” he informs her, nodding to Regina. “You can have ham,” he adds.

Emma snorts. She kisses your bare shoulder and carries Henry to the bathroom to get him ready for the day as you go about making breakfast. 

When they come back, Henry is wearing khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt, but Emma is still in her pseudo-pajamas, though she has pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She pulls at your braid, softly, and kisses your neck. You shrug and try pushing her away but she sneaks an arm around your waist and stays firmly in place.

“Emma,” you scold.

She rolls her eyes and lets go, sitting on the counter instead. She’s been steadily trying to convince you that you’re not going to scar Henry for life if he sees you kissing or hugging, but you don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like you’re intruding in his time with his mother. He seems to like you well enough, though, and you’re glad for it; you know Emma and you wouldn’t work if Henry didn’t accept you. Still, you’ve been in his position before, and while your mother’s boyfriends would ignore you for the most part, you always felt displaced. Like you didn’t matter when they were around and you don’t want that for Henry.

“Clothes thief,” Emma tells you, eyeing the white tank top you’re wearing.

You shrug, and turn around to start the burner. 

“Breakfast will be ready in 5 minutes,” you tell her. “Can you set the table?”

She whines and mumbles something about wanting to eat off the counter but stands up anyway, setting the small table that barely fits the three of you. You and Henry share a mushroom omelet, but you’re both slow eaters and Emma is done way before either of you. She refills her coffee and starts putting away all the things you used for breakfast. She is not a naturally neat person, and you know she makes the effort for Henry’s sake. It’s endearing.

After breakfast is finished, Henry needs a new shirt and you need to take a shower and head to your own apartment, but Emma has other ideas.

“Kid!” she calls to Henry, “wouldn’t it be awesome if Regina went to the supermarket with us?”

Henry is, of course, all for it, and they stand together, looking at you with twin looks of excitement, so you resign yourself to stay and accompany them on their shopping expedition, even if you’re not sure what that entails, exactly. You’ve had your groceries delivered for the last 4 odd years, ever since you moved into the apartment, and even that is infrequent, considering you never spend too much time in your own home, but Emma happened to be there for the last delivery and she was horrified at the bill.

She smiles at you, brightly, when she realizes you’ve accepted your fate, and she tells you to wait in the middle of her tiny living room. Just for 5 minutes, she says, and then she rushes in to her bedroom.

Henry has changed and is holding on to your hand, intent on going now, now, now, before you change your mind. He doesn’t seem to understand that you can’t, and more importantly won’t, leave the apartment wearing borrowed pajamas.

“Come on!” Emma says happily, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. On the bed – a bed that is miraculously made for once – Emma has laid an outfit.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice dripping with disdain that only half fake. You look at the clothes on the bed, and then at Emma, and then at the frayed jeans, and then at the, Jesus Christ, those are canvas sneakers next to the bed.

“No,” you say.

“Aw, Regina! Please? Please? Pleeeeeaaaaase?”

“No,” you repeat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Look,” Emma says. “I get that you don’t like to be recognized, and isn’t this the perfect disguise? Designer clothes are kind of your signature look.”

“This is a terrible idea,” you tell her. You try to back down from the room, but she sits in front of you and gently sets her hands around your hips.

“Please?” she repeats, and tries giving you the puppy dog eyes again.

“If you think that will work again Miss Swan, you are sadly mistaken,” you tell her, and then you roll your eyes, because at this point she thinks “Miss Swan” is a term of endearment and has stopped taking you seriously.

She lays her head against your stomach and your hand immediately sets itself on the back of her neck, almost without your intervention. You sigh.

“You’ll have to find my bra,” you say. “I doubt yours will fit me,” you add.

She glares at you but bends under the bed to search, as you misplaced most of your clothes in last night’s excitement. She offers a lovely view of her backside though.

Fifteen minutes later you are dressed in her clothes and, at her insistence, your hair is up in a ponytail. In the living-room, she rummages through your purse until she finds your glasses and grins victoriously.

You sigh again, taking them and going to the bathroom to take off your contacts. Emma Swan will be the dead of you.


	2. Chapter 2

You are wearing a blue t-shirt. 

You’re holding one of Henry’s hands, and Emma has the other, and he skips and jumps and bounces in between you, and he laughs. God, his laugh is maybe the best sound you’ve ever heard. He’s doing that thing where he pulls forward with all his weight and you and Emma anchor him in place, and every time he pulls Emma smiles at you and you think there might be something you’re missing because you’ve never seen that smile before.

“He can never do that,” she tells you, softly and over his head. “I don’t think… He’s never had two hands to hold.”

She looks down at the floor, and you want to tell her never to worry about that again, that you will never let them be alone again, but you can’t. You don’t know what will happen to you, to this relationship. It’s been a blissful couple of months and you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy before in your life, and Emma is such a big part of it, is most of it, really, but still, you’re Regina Mills and things hardly ever work out when you’re involved. So instead you lean towards her and kiss her, very softly, on the cheek. Out in public, where anyone could see and that alone gives you a thrill that’s almost as good as the kiss itself and you are wearing a blue t-shirt that is too tight in the front and a little too long on you. And it’s hers and it smells like Emma Swan and the chamomile shampoo she shares with Henry because she’s too lazy to buy her own. 

When you make it to the store, Emma lets go of Henry’s hand and picks him up. He is still little enough that he can fit in the child seat of the cart and he swings his legs, kicking the cart every time. He’s just starting to read and he wants to read the labels of everything before he’ll allow you to put it in the cart.

You have no problem indulging him, since you’re doing pretty much the same thing. This is your first time shopping and while you know the mechanics of it, you’re still incredibly curious. Emma, who is usually not the most patient person in the world, looks fondly at you two, slowly pushing the cart. 

“How is this the first time you do this?” she asks you, only half-joking. Her eyes darken for less than a second, but it’s enough to let you see. 

Emma can find injustice in the most trivial things. You can’t drive a car, you never went to a real school, you got married when you were 18 to a man who made your life a living hell. There are many things you feel you were deprived of, but with Emma, you’ve discovered that there is so much in this world that you’ve never experienced and never imagined you were missing. Her anger, purely on your behalf, scares you and delights you and makes you want to run as far away from her as you possibly can. And it also makes you want to stay.

“I’m doing it now,” you tell her, and you curl your hand around hers, over the handle. Henry adds his little hand on top of yours and grins at you. He is bored with reading now.

“Can we get ice-cream?” he asks.

Emma considers this for a second before nodding, and then he asks to be let down to show you where it is. He is very excited, and he doesn’t think it strange that an adult needs help navigating a supermarket, so you take his hand and follow him, allowing him to guide you. He wants to help with everything, and you and Emma take turns lifting him up so he can reach the upper shelves. Emma’s t-shirt rides up every time she lifts him, and you are more than fascinated with the inch or so of skin above her jeans.

“Hey!” she softly admonishes you when she catches you staring. You bite your lip and look at her, and her eyes tell you _later_ , and _I know_ , and so many other things, but you’re soon distracted with Henry, who wants you to weigh in on what cheese is better for sandwiches.

When Henry gets tired of showing you around, he asks for the seat again. It’s your turn to push the cart and it’s all so very domestic, exactly the kind of thing you dreamt of having when you were a child. And then it all falls apart when Henry starts tracing the thin white lines that decorate your left wrist. You barely manage not to push his little hand away.

“Emma,” you say softly, trying not to scare him, “Emma, please take the cart.” 

You hands ball into fists. You forgot your make-up this morning. You were so happy and content, so oblivious, that you forgot to cover up your failures. Emma hasn’t asked about them, but surely she must wander. She’s seen you in the shower, she’s thoroughly inspected every inch of your body, just as you have hers, and she hasn’t asked any question. Not ones you wouldn’t be willing to answer, anyway.

You go and stand by the lettuce for a while, and you try to make sense of the little signs and the numbers and the letters but all you can feel is Henry’s little fingers on your wrists. You hug yourself and take a deep breath, and tell yourself it’s nothing. He doesn’t know. He wouldn’t know how or why or… Henry wouldn’t know.

But Emma would and she has a palm curled around the cart handle and the other is stretched in front of her and she’s looking at you, and it’s so easy, suddenly, to just take her hand.

Emma sets Henry on the conveyor belt during check-out, and he laughs like a maniac when it starts moving, and people are staring. The lady waiting behind you is looking intently at all three of you and you feel nervous and exposed and you can’t help but raise your hand and touch the tiny horizontal line on your throat and Emma knows, because she chuckles softly and she takes your hand and kisses your knuckles and tells you not to worry, that Henry is adorable and little old ladies are always staring at him.

She grabs a couple of magazines of the rack to her left and adds them to her purchases, and you don’t see what they are until you are back at her apartment and she waves them in your face as she very seriously tells you: “You’re cheating on me?” and then bursts out laughing until she has to sit down, she’s shaking so hard.

You take one of the magazines and have to smile. There’s a picture on the cover, on the upper right corner, of you and Graham and it was taken maybe a year ago, around the time you decided to break things off with him definitely, and under it there’s a picture of the two of you having coffee in a Starbucks from a couple of weeks ago.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Emma shrugs and goes back to putting away the groceries, and you pay attention to which cabinet exactly tea is supposed to go in. It’s been a couple of months, and you spend far more time in this apartment than you’d be willing to admit, but you still don’t have a firm grasp on where everything goes. Mostly because she keeps moving everything around.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, but this time you’re serious. “At the store, I’m sorry about… Henry, and-”

You stop suddenly because you don’t really know how to finish that sentence, and you lower your eyes so they are focused on the table in front of you instead of on Emma’s back.

“Hey,” she says, turning around. “It’s fine. He didn’t even notice Regina, he’s just fine.”

“I forgot. To cover them. I forgot and I… I never forget Emma.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she tells you firmly. She walks towards you and gently takes your hands in hers, turning them palm up and kissing, oh, god, she’s kissing your wrists. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” she repeats.

Henry finds you like that, face to face, foreheads touching, and he takes advantage of the moment by opening one of the canvas bags and slipping a packet of Oreos, but he’s got all the subtlety of a 5 year old, so of course you notice and you end up chasing him around the apartment until he collapses under the coffee table and you end up sharing the cookies with him, and you stay there until it’s lunch time and no one feels like getting up, so it becomes nap time instead, and you fall asleep with Henry curled up against you and his baby soft hair tickling your neck and when you wake up, Emma has draped a blanket over you and she’s in the kitchen making grilled cheese and you are still wearing that blue shirt and she’s still looking at you like really, there’s nothing wrong with you at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Baby!Henry makes everything better. Also, I cannot believe I got this out on time :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of this will be up on Monday!


End file.
